


At the Crumbling Castle Gates

by backtothestart02



Series: Backburner WIPs [9]
Category: La sombra del viento | The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Angel's Game - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love Triangle, Romance, Sempere reference, Vidal reference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 01:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11863932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backtothestart02/pseuds/backtothestart02
Summary: David comes to Cristina after learning of her engagement to Vidal, demanding to know the truth from her and desperate to change her mind.*Written from The Angel's Game, prequel to The Shadow of the Wind.





	At the Crumbling Castle Gates

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 7 of WIP week in June 2017, my sole unpublished fic. This is designed as a multi-chap, but I don't know when I'll update it again, since there's likely very few people even interested and it's been a couple years at least since I read it, so I might have to do a bit of a re-read to even continue. And let's be real, this book is TORTURE. It's so, so angsty.
> 
> Anyways, this is my attempt to give David and Cristina their happy ending. David doesn't lose his mind...Cristina doesn't wait forever to leave Vidal for him...David hasn't made his deal with the Devil yet... Maybe one day I'll make an effort to continue this, but until there's a real demand for it, it won't be a priority. Enjoy if you decide to read, and please let me know if you're interested in me writing more! The opening scene is word-for-word from the book. :P
> 
> *Many thanks to my lovely beta, sendtherain, for looking this over. She's the best!

_“Please say something,” Vidal pleaded._

_I opened my eyes._

_“What is the second thing you were going to tell me?”_

_I’d never seen Vidal look so frightened. It suited him._

_“I’ve asked Cristina to marry me.”_

_A long silence._

_“She said yes.”_

_Vidal looked down. One of the waiters came over with the starters. He left them on the table wishing us a bon appétit. Vidal did not dare look at me again. The starters were getting cold. After a while I took the copy of The Steps of Heaven and left._

…

 

My head was pounding. I had adjusted as well as could be done to the tumor eating away at my brain, forever killing me slowly, but it was as if today it had summoned all the other aspects of my life into destroying my spirit too.

I was furious with Vidal, and with Cristina too for her ridiculous sense of obligation that drove her to do the one thing, be with the one person, that would absolutely tear me apart. I should have seen it coming, but it was still so heartbreakingly painful, worse than all the nausea and numbing headaches I’d had to endure for years it seemed.

Really, though, my pain lie with Vidal. Not only had he taken from me the one unattainable love he knew I always held but he was also the cause for my father’s death. He had killed my father even if he had not been the one to pull the trigger. My father was the scapegoat to his frivolous activities. Guilt clearly ate at him to redeem himself somehow. And yet, he gloried in his own victory by punishing me with Cristina and how my lack of investment in the parish was the reason for the failure of the book I’ve poured my heart and soul into.

And his victory wasn’t even his to have.

It felt like a set up. Maybe Cristina didn’t love me at all. Maybe she truly loved Vidal and it wasn’t just this debt she felt she would forever owe to him. Hadn’t she, knowing how I felt about her, urged me to write Vidal’s book? Didn’t she know it would be such a success that Vidal would partially credit her for it? Was the plan to finally get him to go down on bended knee and ask for her hand in marriage?

I couldn’t imagine her being that deceitful. And when I made love to her after her father died, it had felt real. Short-lived, but real. In those moments, on that night, I had treasured her and every touch was forever burned into my memory. I would never forget it.

I never wanted to see either of them again. It was a betrayal, whether intentional or not. The rising tide of anger, hurt and wounded pride threatened to consume me. The pain in my head only added to it.

If there was no closure though, from her, from Cristina, I would never be able to move out of the dungeon my love for her had created around me. So, I went to Villa Helius, because I knew she would be there, waiting for her betrothed to come back to her. The thought made me angrier but at least Vidal wouldn’t be there. I had a feeling he would remain where he was for quite some time, if he truly had ever cared for me at all.

The staff I knew, that I’d seen many times before, saw me as I came through the doors, not waiting to be asked inside, not knocking either. I tried not to look at them but it was hard to block out the pitying looks they gave from out of the corner of my eyes. Whether it regarded Cristina or my failed novel I didn’t know, but if it was both that was all the more reason to move past them as quickly as possible and find the love who had betrayed me when she hadn’t even been mine.

Surprisingly – or maybe not so – I found her in Vidal’s study, staring out the window from the middle of the room. In other instances when I might have been thinking clearly, I would have found it odd. But I was hurt and broken and masking my fury, so I did not spare more than a second’s thought on the small observation.

I dropped my book on the floor, my signature inside as Vidal had requested. It was more of a mocking insult than anything else, though only my name had been scribbled on the inside cover. I had written it angrily and knew she would see that when she opened the book that only Sempere had deemed valuable enough to sell. Of that I was sure.

The loud sound of the book dropping to the floor startled her. She jumped in her seat and turned to look at me. Her breath caught in her throat.

“David,” she breathed. The surprise and alarm in her face quickly turned to sadness and maybe even a hint of fear. Because she knew that I knew, and she pitied me.

“There is your damn book. Signature and all,” I spat. Her eyes widened. “Your fiancé requested I give it to you as one last mocking gesture. I came around to it, because I have to know if it’s true.”

She swallowed and nodded slowly, tears filling her eyes that I chose to ignore. Because she needed to hurt. She needed to feel the pain I was feeling. I had to see that it was real for her. That it was hurting her to betray me like she was and that it wasn’t intentional like I had feared.

“You and Vidal are…?” I couldn’t finish it, but the lump visible in her throat answered the question for me. “My own mentor, the only father figure I’ve ever really had, who apparently is also the reason my real father is dead. This is the person you choose to marry.”

For the first time she spoke.

“You know I had to, David. I couldn’t say no.”

“Because he owns you? Like some sort of _slave_?” I spat. I knew the words she’d rehearsed before me, her deepest beliefs. They were my beliefs too, but I had never felt quite as strongly as she did. After all, I had paid my gratitude in full by writing him his damned best seller and suffering the poor reviews of my own work of art.

She stood to her feet. “What greater form of gratitude is there than being his wife? Doing whatever he wishes? Being his true and loyal companion? It is all I could have asked for. By doing this I am free of worrying I have to do anything else. My debt has been paid. Or, it soon will be.”

“Your debt isn’t paid. You’re a prisoner in this, unless of course you truly love him.”

She hesitated and I feared the worst, despite how angry I was. Her honesty almost hurt worse but it did give some relief.

“Not the way I love you.”

I closed my eyes.

“But you know we can never be. Vidal owns us. This is my payment to finally be free.”

I stepped closer to her, closing the distance between us.

“But you aren’t free. And how can you request my name inside my book that has failed to meet the standard of Vidal’s wonderful work of art? Sending Vidal to do your bidding because you can’t face me? You must have known I’d come.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I thought you would make it a point to never see me again. I thought you would hate me, that you could never forgive me.”

I wanted to tell her that I didn’t, that I couldn’t, but my heart told me I’d sooner forget about her than not forgive her, if she truly wanted forgiveness.

I looked away from her to a blank spot on the far side of the room. How many times had I sat here with Vidal, discussing my future and the very essence of life? He had been my best friend, my mentor, my father for the greater part of my life. And tonight he had destroyed everything.

“Vidal did a great thing for us, pulling us out of our poverty. We would not be where we are today without that significant act of charity.”

She swallowed and nodded silently, looking down at the floor and my discarded book.

“But you are your own person, Cristina. If you told Vidal today, now, that you love me and not him—”

“I would regret it forever,” she said, suddenly very passionate.

“Really?” I whispered. “Would marrying me instead of your rescuer be so terrible?”

“David…” she lost any words that could come to her, so I closed the small space still between us and held her face in my hands.

“I have loved you, Cristina, since before I truly understood what love was. Vidal may love you, but it can’t possibly match what I feel. Your paid debt of gratitude to him will not keep you happy forever.”

She closed her eyes.

“Please, Cristina…” I lowered my face and pressed a kiss to her lips. She did not retreat but she did not respond either. “Give me this,” I whispered. “All I want is you.”

“No.” She shook her head. “No, David, I can’t.” Her voice broke. “And you know why.” A tear streamed down her cheek. “I am the one thing you cannot have.”

The stubborn words did not stick with me like they had every time before. Instead I lowered my head again and kissed her. She protested at first, but then she sunk into the kiss and matched my intensity. Soon her hands were in my hair and when I tore my lips away to kiss down her neck, I could feel the tears trickling down her skin.

“This is wrong. I cannot…I can’t do this.” She tried to push at my shoulders but it was a feeble attempt and her pushing hands soon curled around my shoulders as her nails dug into the fabric of my shirt.

I raised my head.

“You do not belong to him,” I said, my eyes hot with lust and love. “Whatever you think you owe him has been paid in full already. Don’t do this too. It will only hurt him more when he realizes over time that you do not love him.”

Her lips parted. “Da—”

“Come with me,” I begged, because leaving her now seemed a worse fate that death in a matter of months. “Don’t leave me to die alone.”

Despite the normalcy my final statement could have been, I knew she sensed the urgency in them and not just because I wanted her to myself.

“David?”

I swallowed.

“David.”

“I will not tell you,” I said, because I’d sworn I wouldn’t tell anyone. “And perhaps that alone should be reason for me to leave you alone forever.”

Her expression furrowed into worry.

“Please tell me,” she requested softly. I could hear the desperation in her feather-like voice. She let her eyes drift to my chest where she lay her hand over my heart. “It is not only Vidal I worry about.” She lifted her eyes to mine and I knew then I would tell her.

“I have only months to live.” Her eyes widened and her hand dropped from my chest so that we were no longer touching at all. “I do not know how, but there is a growth on my brain that is untreatable. I went to a doctor five months ago and he told me.”

She nearly collapsed onto the chair on which she’d been sitting when I first walked into the room.

“Does…does Vidal—”

“No,” I said instantly. “And I don’t want him to. I’ve told no one. This last year of my life I wanted to use to do something worthy of you, to write a book I could be proud to show you. One that you would not look disdainfully at for the small profit it gave me and where my heart was not present.”

“David,” she choked, sobs suddenly taking her over. I knelt beside her instantly and tried to hold her but within moments she pushed me away and stood to her feet, walking towards the window, seeking fresh air.

“How can you do this to me?” she demanded finally. “How can you make me choose between the two of you?” I said nothing, though guilt now started to settle in me. I had not meant to trap her like this. “I do not know which I would regret more, leaving you alone to die a miserable death or remain true to Vidal because of what he has done for me, for both of us. I could throw myself out this window right now just to be relieved of all the pain you have just caused me.”

The anger inside me dissipated, as it always did when I saw her in pain.

I came to her.

“Forgive me,” I said. She was shaking but I dared not touch her again. “I have been suffering so long on my own, I forgot how it looked to watch you experience the same thing. I do not wish to compromise you in this way. Not like this.”

She kept her face turned away and so I retreated, picked up my book, set it on the table and took my leave.

……………

 

When I returned late that evening, grateful for the bed I was soon to collapse on, there was a knock on the door only moments after I’d stepped inside. I did not dare to hope she would be coming here at this hour. Hope was a foolish thing for me to dwell on. It did not serve me well, especially today.

But I returned to the entryway and opened the large wooden door. And there she stood, as beautiful as before and with drying tears still staining her cheeks.

I stood there in silence, waiting. Finally she crossed the threshold and lifted her face to mine, pulling me into a kiss that I savored for as long as it would last.

“Tell me,” I whispered when her lips left mine.

“It’s not pity,” she told me. “It’s not pity that I come to you now. I do not choose you because of your …” she swallowed, “your short time left. I choose you because I love you.”

My lips parted. I knew it was not all truth. The revelation of my illness had changed her mind.

“I left Vidal. I told him my heart was with you.”

“Did you tell him—”

She shook her head. “I leave that for you.”

I did not know what to say.

“David…” She stroked the side of my face tenderly. “Tell me you still love me.”

My gaze became fixated on hers. “I still love you,” I said, almost robotically, but I meant every word.

“Tell me you will have me…if…if only for a short while.”

“I will have you forever,” I said, the emotion back in my voice as I claimed her lips once more and then pulled her inside.

Hours later when we lay spent and twisted together on my bed I heard her whisper softly against my skin.

“We will find a way to save you,” she said. I knew then that she loved me, and that was why she came. Pain arced through me then, almost unbearably so, because when we lost each other it would break her and even the comfort Vidal might give her wouldn’t heal her broken heart.

So I nodded numbly against her. There had to be a way. Our love couldn’t end like this.

I closed my eyes and went to sleep, praying she would not vanish like she had done so many times before.


End file.
